JUST FLEW IN!

 We were enjoying our 3-season porch yesterday when a new feathered friend flew in to check out the back yard. It was very pretty, blue and white, but didn't stick around long enough to get the camera.

Today, I was working on a column when Mary Anne yelled that the bird was back, so I grabbed the camera, rushed downstairs and quietly opened the door to the porch.

The cute little guy was perched in a red maple tree on the back border of the property, so I began shooting as soon as I was outside.
 Thanks to the 28X zooom lens on my Lumix, I was able to advance a few steps and take a series of shots, but all the while, the bird had its head buried under its right wing, facing away.      

I got to within 2 or 3 feet from the tree, and the bird was at eye level, but still facing away.

I circled the tree, stopping every few seconds to take another photo, all the while thinking it would fly away.

Finally the head came out, but it still didn't fly away and I was able to take several close-up shots before finally
 flying into the next yard and disappearing .

At this point, we're figuring that the little guy escaped from a friendly home and will inquire around the neighborhood.

For now, we're simply grateful for the visit. If he returns, we'll put out some seed.

He sure did make our day!

BONUS TO BEGIN A NEW SEASON

There is much more to fishing than simply catching fish. I've said it before and I'll say it again. If I needed another confirmation, I received it once again this past Saturday when we opened the 2012 trout season.

Just as we've done for more than 30 years, we opened the season at my son Todd's campsite at Nickerson Park Campground on the Natchaug River. Todd and I fished a while then broke for a scrumptious breakfast of sausage, eggs and home fries courtesy of Tracie Alley. We had settled in around the campfire with our second cup of coffee when John Wood and his daughter Christy came by. 

John and Christy, age 14, were enjoying their fifth year at the campground for a traditional trout opener, but this year, Christy was armed with a fly rod. She had tied up a bunch of flies over the winter and had obviously been practicing.

They entered the water near our site, heading for the opposite bank where a tempting riffle extended from a fallen tree. John remarked that the spot had potential and he and his daughter took up positions to get the right drift.

Within a few casts, John had a strike and set the hook, sending a tiny Dace splashing across the surface. We all had a good laugh, but then Christy set up on an obviously bigger fish.

She played the fish way beyond her young age and soon had it in the net.

 Holding it up to show Dad, she then released the trout, anxious to resume casting.

Moments later, Christy tied into a second fish, this time a bit bigger. Dad grabbed his camera to take a picture.

This one measured maybe 15-26 inches, a keeper for sure and Christy took it back to the campsite to reserve it for breakfast.

Watching John and Christy sharing the fun and excitement of this opening day, brought me back decades when I took Todd and Lori on their first trout fishing trips. I also had the pleasure in being there when each and every one of my grandchildren caught their first fish.

Someday, maybe 20 or 30 years from now, John and Christy will be watching some other Dad with his son or daughter on another trout opener. 

I've enjoyed catching many fish over the years, but none gave me more pleasure than seeing another youngster get hooked on fishing. 

30

Then & Now With Scotty Barnes

Then & Now with Scotty Barnes!

    It was our first trip to the then Natchaug Valley Campground (now Nickerson Park Family Campground). We were camped down at the far end where the river bends in a big "S" curve. The ripples sing a melody as they pass by and at night it's like being in Big Sky Country out west as the stars fill the sky away from the lighted areas.
     We had great neighbors that included the Schurman's, the Landcrafts and the Larry Barnes family. Larry's son Scotty was really hooked into fishing and one day, I caught this photo of him with a frisky trout.

Scotty Barnes with one of his first trout.

His Dad was a good fisherman and over the years we all became friends and enjoyed many weekends as neighbors.

As happens, kids grow up go to school and other activities and camping is abandoned or at least cut way back.

That's the way it was with us and years passed when we didn't see our friends. A few years back, we got back into camping again, purchased a new pop-up. My bride and I camped during the summer months, but Opening weekends of trout season became a guy thing.My son Todd and other friends never missed an opener until I lost my camper in a flood a few years back. Then Todd and his family got serious about camping again and I've since managed to make every Opener except the year I had knee surgery.

         A couple of years ago, Todd and I were enjoying our first cup of coffee next to the campfire on Opening morning when a young man walked up and introduced himself. It was Scotty Barnes. He's still a good fisherman as demonstrated by this newer photograph. His Dad was with him and we enjoyed talking over old times. Now we all look forward to getting together each and every season.

Scotty is still catching the big ones

DWA

FEBRUARY RAINBOW!

Pretty Winter Rainbows

           Wednesday was too good to pass up. It was February 15th, a few clouds and some sun and the thermometer outside my window read 48 degrees. I'd spent the morning working on taxes. I felt a headache coming on and just knew that the only cure was fishing.

            I finished lunch, loaded a rod, tackle bag and a pair of hip boots in the car and headed out. I forgot the creel and a net. Minutes later I was headed up Rte. 44 to my favorite trout spot, the Natchaug River.Half an hour later, I was tying a Super-Vibrax spinner to the end of my line as the waters of my favorite pool churned slowly by.

             I didn't even need the boots. The water is surprisingly low due to the lack of a snow run-off and more resembled levels found in mid to late June. Visibility was excellent. The water was as clear as a good gin or vodka and I flipped the spinner across and a little upstream, letting it sink a little before starting my retrieve.Nothing! I cast again and again, quartering upstream and down, slowing the retrieve then speeding it up. Inevitably, I let the lure sink too far and hung up. The four-pound test line snapped and another lure was donated to the river.

             I sifted through my lure box until my eyes settled on a little Countdown Rapala colored yellow and gold. I moved downstream towards the bottom of the pool and cast again. The lure was a visible just under the surface and half-way back, I saw movement behind it, I hesitated, twitched the rod tip, turned the handle again. The fish followed but wouldn't hit. Another cast to the same spot came up empty, so I moved a few feet and retrieved again.

           Another flash! I twitched the rod again, turned the handle, jiggled it once more and the fish grabbed it. The rod doubled. I gave up a little line as the drag kicked in but within a few minutes a nice 15-inch trout was flopping at the waters edge. Like I said, I forgot the net, but was able to drag the fish onto the bank, grab it and remove the hook.

           I only keep a few trout every year, but before I left the house, I had made up my mind to keep my catch this day. Now I didn't have a creel either. Back to the car where I found a plastic bag.

          The limit in this Trophy Trout Area is two fish per day. I decided to move down to the next pool and fished it for about 15 minutes. No hits, No errors. Back to my original spot, I decided to switch lures and tied on a Thomas Buoyant. It gives me a little more casting distance and rides the slower currents nicely. I tried my first spot again and nothing, so after a few minutes, I moved up to the top of the pool for a few final casts before packing it in.

          A few casts was sufficient. I'd tossed the lure maybe five or six times when I felt a solid hit and soon played a second trout to the bank, added it to the plastic bag and headed for home.

          The season closes on the Natchaug in two weeks. What the weather will do is anybody's guess. Another nice afternoon between now and then will likely have this old codger heading for the river. If not, I will certainly have enjoyed a couple of great trout dinners. Next time though, I'll remember the net and the creel.

SOME FISH ARE WIMPS!

Back a few years ( more than a few) Chuck Schwartz owned Fairfield Tackle. Chuck introduced me to first, fishing Great Lakes tributaries for steelhead and then followed with an invite aboard Gypsy Charters for  a shot at salmon fishing in Lake Ontario the following summer.

I had hooked big salmon while steelhead fishing in the Salmon River in Pulaski during the spring run, but the 4-pound tippet regulation for steelies always resulted in a long run until we put the brakes on and the line snapped. I was really excited as the boat left the dock.  Chuck, Phil Stein and Win Cyrus were also aboard as we moved a half-mile offshore and the skipper set a whole bunch of rods rigged with a variety of lures at a variety of depths on downriggers.

We picked straws for who would get to play the fish. Phil was the first to score, but not on a salmon. He hit a respectable lake trout, admired it and released it back into the water. Our fishing beats changed every half-hour and the day passed slowly with very little action. There was another hit or two and the two-way radio crackled with complaints from other skippers on the lake who were't doing well either. Hey, it happens!

By the time my turn came, we had eaten all the sandwiches, drank all the beer and soda and it was almost time to pull in the rods. That's when one of the reels started to sing and the skipper handed me the rod. I set the hook, leaned back and started reeling. The fish quickly turned and came towards the boat. I commented that it must be another small laker and continued to reel. No fight! No turning and heading away from the boat. The critter ran right for the transom, stopped and splashed on the surface and somebody put a net around it.

When the fish was swung aboard, we all stood there, mouths wide open. It was a sizable salmon that later weighed in at 28-pounds. It looked healthy, was healthy but just didn't fight worth a darn. Turned put to be the last fish of the day, even though we trolled for another hour or more.

Back at the dock, I posed for this photo with the fish and donated it to the skipper. It was a fun day spent with great company, but it was the wimpiest fish pound for pound that I ever landed.

                                                 DWA

SNAKES ALIVE!

FOR GOODNESS SNAKES

by 

Dick Alley

           I hate snakes! Even though Connecticut isn't over-run with dangerous snakes, I am always watching where I walk when fishing.

The "BUD" was great. Time for the main course.

                  When it comes to trout fishing, Bob Byers and I always enjoyed exploring the rives and streams in the northeast part of the State. Rivers like the Natchaug, the Yantic, Fenton River, the Mount Hope River, Bigelow Brook and others always offer the promise of good trout fishing in April and May. 

                    One day, we traveled down a dirt road through  the forests up around Ashford and Eastford, and came to an open area, the site of some kind of former industrial operation. There were building foundations and a nice stream meandered through the area. It only took a few casts to produce a couple of trout as we walked around casting into different pools and riffles.We were walking the dirt road when one of us looked down to see an area that was crawling with snakes. The critter shown in the photo quickly drew our attention as it was obviously in the process of eating a trout about 10-inches in length.

                 I quickly headed back to the car to get my camera and very cautiously approached this big hungry guy. I don't like snakes and normally do everything in my power to put as much distance between myself and the snake,"any snake" as quickly as possible.

               As I drew closer, it was obvious that I was unwelcome. That snake suddenly began coughing and wiggling, flexing those neck muscles until it expelled the body of the trout. Just as suddenly, it turned and coiled and lunged at me, mouth agape, fangs bared. Luckily I was far enough away that it fell to the ground missing me by a couple of feet. (Thanks for telephoto lenses.) I would have loved to have had that shot, but I was too busy back-pedaling in the other direction to take it.

              This photo remains one of my favorites and always came up in conversations when Bob and I would tell war stories over a beer or two.

DWA

FIRST FISH

FIRST FISH

Fishing is an important factor when it comes to aging properly. Almost every fish is a memory. Even more precious are the memories of watching children and grandchildren learn the sport of fishing and experience their own first fishing adventure.

Todd Alley with his first sunfish. He was maybe 4 or 5 at the time.

Becca Alley is Todd's daughter and she was happy with her first trout two seasons back while on a camping trip to the Natchaug River. Grandpa and Dad were both on hand for the occasion.

Nichole is Becca's older sister and it was double the fun that day because both girls  caught trout on their first fishing day.

Found the photo! - My oldest Grandson Chris with his first sunfish, fishing the Saugatuck Reservoir with Grandpa.  

Mary Meinke is Poppy Alley's oldest Grand-daughter. She'll be graduating from  College in May but on this day she was on her first fishing trip to the Saugatuck Reservoir with her Grandfather.

Will Meinke is Mary's younger brother and he graduates High School this June. This was a day when he  was camping with Grandma & Poppy and caught his first sunfish in the Natchaug River.

I was unable to locate my daughter Lori's first fishing photo nor her son,   Christopher's who is now 24 and out in the working world. I remember taking Lori to River Road on the Saugatuck in Weston on an opening day when she was about 8 years old. FOUND IT! Grandson Chris caught his first sunny at the Saugatuck Reservoir. It;s added to the group but stil looking for Lori's.
None have become avid anglers like myself. Todd has an almost professional degree of expertise with a fly rod and caught his personal best trout just this past season. Mary has a continued interest in fishing. We have a date for this summer after graduation.
It will be fun to see how all of  their interests develop in the years ahead. I was a fishing nut until midway through high school due to other more pleasant distractions. I fished very little while doing military service nor for a couple of years after my discharge. It was the late 1950's that the fish-fire began burning brightly again and since then I've been hooked.
I'm just happy to have been there at the beginning.
DWA